"Don't," I say, "Lucia."
"What?" she says, licking her lips. "Why can't I get what I want for Christmas?"
"Because what you want might be a little bit too big of a package."
She smiles. "An extra-large candy cane, that what you're saying?" She lifts her eyebrows.
"I mean it. What you're doing, this is trouble."
She smiles again. "You know, your daughter and I grew up going to boarding school. We know all about getting into trouble."
"That's not true," I say. "You two were good girls when you were at boarding school. I never got reports of you two getting into mischief."
"Mischief," she says. "Who's talking about mischief? I'm talking about real scandal. And your daughter and I, we are not exactly two peas in a pod. She was the good girl. But remember, I have the reputation for being the wild one. And maybe the things I did weren't things that you ever knew about. Maybe I've always had a thing for older men. Professors, perhaps?"
"How about we don't talk in innuendo and you tell me the truth straight up. Were you going off to boarding school and hooking up with your teachers?"
"Would that make you mad?" she asks me.
I nod. "It would make me furious."
"And why is that, Cane?" she asks, taking another sip of her whiskey.
I watch as she swallows. "It would make me furious because I don't like the idea of you being with anyone else."
She exhales slowly. She smiles softly. From inside, I hear Fiona open the French doors leading to the patio. "What are you guys doing? Come back in. The cookies, I almost burned them. I need your help, Lucia. I'm terrible in the kitchen, you know that. And Dad, Flynn was wondering where you keep the vodka? I couldn't find it. Can you help?"
"Of course," I say, stepping away from Lucia, from the conversation, from the temptation that is wrong on so many levels. She smiles as I walk away.
"Oh," she says, "My dad said you have a dinner reservation with him tonight."
I look at my watch. "Yes, I do. In an hour."
She smiles. "It's not fair. My dad gets you all to himself."
Fiona's nose wrinkles. "That's a strange thing to say," she says, linking arms with her best friend. They walk back into the kitchen, and I finish my whiskey.
I pause before I go back into the house.
No way in hell can I walk into the kitchen with the hard-on I have.
.
2
Lucia
Making Christmas cookies at Fiona's house is my favorite holiday tradition. But there's a reason that the older I've gotten, the tradition has moved to the very top of my list. And it has nothing to do with my very best friend, and everything to do with her father.
That might sound a little creepy. Okay, maybe a lot creepy. I can't help it. My body has been longing for a man twice my age for as long as I can remember.
I'm done apologizing for it. Vive la révolution, or whatever. I want that man with every inch of my body. And I can't exactly control my pussy, can I?
Not that I believe I will really act on my desire. I'm all talk.
People call me a wild child, but it's not the kind of wild anybody thinks. It's the daredevil kind of wild. It's jumping out of airplanes, and loving roller coasters, and being down for an all-you-can-eat hot dog contest kind of wild.
It's the skinny dipping at midnight, and swimming with sharks, and going for the cold plunge challenge kind of wild.
Not the kind of wild that does the nasty with her best friend's father, no matter how much I want it, need it, crave it, dream about it, wish for it.
But I'm getting older and maybe wiser. Braver for sure. And as I'm growing up, I'm realizing I'm tired of waiting for what I want.
Being in this kitchen tonight has reminded me of that. My best friend Fiona found her fairy tale ending, her knight in shining armor in the form of a hitman. No one's questioning that kind of crazy.
I mean, he is a freaking hitman for goodness’ sake and no one told her no. No one said falling in love at first sight with a man who kills people for a living was a bad idea. We all just smiled and went along with it and said, "Sure, Fiona. That sounds like a great fucking plan."
I'm also jealous. And that's not exactly the most becoming thing when it comes to best friends. But I am crazy, wildly jealous of what she's found, mostly because I can see it for myself. I can see it so vividly, so crystal clear. And yet, I can't have it. I can’t have him. Cane O’Grady.
Fiona has been off gallivanting all over the world, in LA and coming back to Vegas and doing whatever the hell she wants with her husband, Flynn. She has a whole life with him ahead of her. She's got it all mapped out. And me, I feel like I'm stuck in this holding pattern, living in the penthouse at the Crown Plaza that my daddy owns because I can't go anywhere. I can't really do anything because I'm waiting for a man who has never even given me so much as a signal that he's reciprocating my desire.